Bigger Than Us
by a-perpetual-hiraeth
Summary: Richie knew Eddie well enough to know Eddie didn't need to be alone now. Confronting "it" had taken a toll on all the Losers, and they were changed now because of it...


**This is based on the 2017 movie version of** ** _IT_** **. I haven't read the book (yet). I've seen the miniseries but it's been a few years and my memory of it's pretty fuzzy. I know the overall story, though, and I really enjoyed the 2017 adaptation.**

 **Alternate title: "Richie's Promise."**

 **Hope you like it! Reviews would be much appreciated! :)**

* * *

Richie stopped his bike in front of Eddie's house. Dismounting, he inspected his bandaged palm. It still burned like hell from where Billy had cut it with a piece of glass the day before. "Damn it, Billy, why did you have to cut so deep?" he thought. "This is going to be here for weeks."

He could only imagine how Eddie's mom had reacted to seeing Eddie's gashed palm. Knowing her, she did see it. Richie could picture it now: him trying to keep it from her view as he entered the house, her demanding to see what he was hiding, him finally relenting and showing her, her screaming about how his friends were bad influences and if he wasn't careful they'd eventually get him killed. She'd probably then rushed him to the ER and made a fuss about possible infections. "Poor Eds," Richie thought.

Richie knew Eddie well enough to know Eddie didn't need to be alone now. Confronting "it" had taken a toll on all the Losers, and they were changed now because of it. The change was hard to put into words, but they'd all felt it, at the Barrens, as they stood in a circle, locking their sliced hands together and made a blood oath to return to Derry if "it" ever came back; it hovered in the air around them, a definite change in who they were before combating "it" and who they were now. Perhaps "rite of passage" would have been the best way to describe the transformation, but that phrase didn't seem to do it justice.

The change was probably hardest on Eddie. Eddie didn't cope well with change, or anything that took him out of his safety net. After the Losers had disbanded and went to get on their bikes and go home, Richie had caught up with Eddie, walking alongside him quietly, glancing at him from time to time. Eddie had seemed distant, as though he were trying to mentally process something. Richie considered spouting off some smart-ass remark but, for once, decided against it. As he, Eddie, Mike, Stan, and Ben mounted their bikes, he said, "Catch you guys later." Mike, Stan, and Ben responded. Eddie did not.

The house looked dark inside, though Eddie's mom's car was parked in the driveway. Richie knocked on the front door and waited. No one answered. He knocked again. Still no answer. "Eddie?" he called out. Finally, the door opened.

Eddie's mom stood in the doorway, donning a nightgown and a disapproving scowl. "Eddie's grounded," she said matter-of-factly, then slammed the door shut.

"Fuck," Richie whispered under his breath. He was tempted to knock again, to keep knocking until she re-opened it and, before she could let out a single word, explain to her that her oh-so-fragile son who she'd made scared of his own shadow had just helped take down the thing that had been killing the children of Derry for God knew how long, and that instead of punishing him, she should congratulate him for having bigger stones than just about anyone else in the whole damn town. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though. She wouldn't have believed him, and even if she did, telling her would have caused far more harm than good. She'd probably have Eddie's bedroom door and window barred.

Richie got back on his bike and cycled away. He wasn't sure where to go. The Barrens? One of his other friends' place? On a typical day that's what he would have done, but today was not a typical day. Everything felt different. _He_ felt different. It all looked the same—the trees, the roads, the houses, the people—yet it wasn't. He ended up bicycling for about half an hour before deciding to return home.

Funny enough, when he reached his house, there was Eddie on his own bike on the side of the street, next to Richie's driveway. "Hey," Richie said as he rode up to him. "I was just at your house a bit ago. Your mom said you were grounded."

"I know," Eddie replied. "I heard you outside. I managed to sneak out after my mom laid down for a nap. She'll kill me if she finds me gone—either that or kill you."

"My money's on her killing me."

Eddie managed a smile. "But I guess at this point we've faced scarier things."

"Eds, nothing's scarier than your mom." Richie nudged Eddie on the arm and they both laughed.

"I finally stood up to her, if you can believe it," Eddie then said. "Before we went down in the sewer. I called her out on all her 'I need to protect you' bullshit."

"You're a braver man than I, Eds."

Eddie turned his head to the side, looking towards the road the way one does when they're not focusing on anything in particular. "Not really. I was terrified."

Richie knew instantly that he wasn't just talking about confronting his mom. Before he could respond, Eddie turned his attention back to him and said, "Wanna head down to the Barrens?"

They rode to the Barrens in silence. When they got there, Eddie took a puff from his inhaler. They sat in the grass and started pulling at the blades. Finally, Eddie spoke: "Do you think it's dead?"

"I don't know," Richie replied. "Do you?"

Eddie paused, then answered, "No. We're not that lucky."

Richie looked down, tying a long blade of grass into a knot. Eddie was probably right. Something as powerful as "it" would, in all likelihood, take more than a beating and a mouth full of steel to destroy.

"We almost died, Richie," Eddie added. "Bev got this close"—he gestured with his index finger and thumb—"to biting the dust. I was more scared than I'd ever been in my life, and that's coming from me, the kid who's afraid of everything."

"We were all scared, Eds."

" _You_ could've fooled me. I mean, 'Welcome to the Loser's Club, asshole'? Seriously, Richie?"

Richie smiled.

"That pact we made—" Eddie began.

"You're not thinking of backing out, are you?"

"Of course I'm not backing out. I'd never do that to you guys. It's just . . . despite what we did, I'm _still_ scared. If it's alive like I think it is, what will it do when it comes back? Will it be even worse than before? I have all these questions and they all scare the shit out of me, and I don't want to go through the next twenty-seven years of my life being more scared than I usually am."

Richie nodded. He knew where Eddie was coming from, and if he was honest with himself, he was still scared too.

"I don't want to die," Eddie continued, exhaling a deep breath. "Or risk dying. I'm no Batman, Richie." He yanked a shard of grass out of the ground and tossed it to the side. "I've spent my _whole life_ afraid. It's like fear is all I know how to feel. And this thing . . . it's so much bigger than us."

A moment of no speaking passed between them in which all that could be heard was the water from the canal a few feet away, running over the rocks.

"You're right," Richie eventually said, "it _is_ bigger than us. But you know something? Call me crazy but I think we're stronger than it."

Eddie shot him an incredulous look.

"I think it was scared of _us_ ," Richie went on. "That's why it hated us so much. That's why it toyed with us. Tried to break us down. It knew we could win."

"Maybe," Eddie admitted, somewhat nonchalantly. "I still think I just signed my own death warrant."

Richie took in a deep breath and looked down, rubbing his bandaged palm. "Maybe," he agreed. "Maybe we all did." Then, after a moment's contemplation, he looked back up at Eddie and said, "But the thing is, maybe it's worth it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean . . ." Richie paused, trying to put words to what he wanted to say. "Look, you and the rest of the gang are the only friends I've got. You're the only friends I've ever had. No one else has ever given a shit about me. Hell, until you guys came along, I didn't really give a shit about anyone. And . . . I think maybe, maybe the few people in your life who stick by you, who make you feel less like a loser, like you're worth something . . . maybe they're _worth_ dying for."

Eddie grimaced. "That doesn't make me feel better."

"Tell you what," Richie told him, standing. "I'll make you a promise."

"No more promises, Richie. Please."

"No, no, this one's from me to you."

Eddie brought himself to his feet, wiping off his shorts. "Okay?"

"I promise," Richie began, "that if it isn't dead, and we have to come back and fight it again, I won't let anything happen to you."

Eddie seemed doubtful.

"Wanna make it official?" Richie glanced around him. "I think that piece of glass is around here somewhere."

"Let's not," Eddie said. Holding up his gauze-wrapped hand, he added, "I already got run through the ringer over this."

Richie nodded again. "But really, Eds, I hit that clown fucker for Billy. I'd do it again for you."

A slight smile crossed Eddie's face. He gestured towards his bike. "I, uh, should probably go ahead and get on home. My mom doesn't sleep for very long. She doesn't trust me. Wouldn't want to give her a heart attack." His smile widened. "And if there's one thing she definitely doesn't need, it's another reason to want to kill you."

"Ain't that the truth," Richie said through a chuckle.

As they got back on their bikes, Eddie said, "There's one more thing."

"What's that?"

Eddie tucked his bottom lip under his top teeth, hesitant, then said, "If we have to fight it again—and I really think we will, just this feeling I have—well, we'll probably have to go back down into the sewer to do it. I can't stand the idea of rotting in a place like that. So, if it does happen . . . if it does kill me . . . don't leave me there, okay?"

Richie reached his hand over to squeeze Eddie's shoulder and replied, "Eds, I'd never leave you anywhere. We're losers. We gotta stick together."

They began to pedal, moving away from the Barrens.

"Oh, and Richie?" Eddie said.

"Yeah?"

"Would you please stop calling me Eds?"

"Not a chance."


End file.
